Afloat
by Complicity
Summary: "This is why Jac Naylor can sit, alone in her flat, and appropriate such an incredible level of loathing to a cracked bowl full of copper coins."


**Afloat.**

Everything that comes to be has a purpose. Its purpose is the springboard for its capacity to exist at all. Moreover, relevance and reason deplete over time. Much like a currency, the lowest denominator pales into insignificance until its very existence becomes cumbersome and futile.

This is what happens to relationships. This is what happens to people, if they're not careful. Don't panic, though, nothing's ever certain or truly enduring in matters of the soul. You can turn around and start again, become somebody somewhere that isn't you, here.

This is why Jac Naylor can sit, alone in her flat, and appropriate such an incredible level of loathing to a cracked bowl full of copper coins.

oooo

Elliot Hope has seen something he shouldn't have. He bites his nails, he paces around his office, and eventually it occurs to him that somebody with a greater understanding of the evil machine he's blaming for this misdemeanour may be able to help. He peers out of the office door with trepidation, and beckons for the first member of staff who catches his eye.

"Elliot, what?"

"Help me, Oliver! It's this wretched thing." He points accusingly towards Ms Naylor's computer screen, and Ollie's instincts tell him that now would be the time to make his excuses and have absolutely nothing to do with whatever Elliot has broken.

"I don't think I should touch that."

oooo

Something about rats, and a sinking ship. Jac can never honestly convince herself that she cares one iota about NHS politics. She's no Ric Griffin, or Connie Beauchamp, constantly redefining the perimeters of right and wrong, endlessly preaching a cause that will, one way or another, fall flat on its face before senior management. Jac is interested in self preservation, and riding out each wave without getting sucked up and spat out by the system.

Henrik Hanssen. What's most surprising is that nobody else actually saw it coming. There was talk of a downfall and a scapegoat, of course, but each gossip circle was on tenterhooks for the uprising. It's quite depressing, to find oneself in the midst of such incredible naivety.

oooo

"So," Elliot begins to explain, having installed his reluctant junior in Jac's chair. "This bit here was blue because I hadn't clicked on it, and when I did click it went white. Now, it's very important that it looks blue again because,"

"Because you value your manhood?!"

"Well," Elliot shrugs, and Ollie grins at his boss' unease, momentarily forgetting his own peril at this particular moment.

"Sorry Elliot but, why were you reading Ms Naylor's emails in the first place?"

"It was a completely honest mistake."

"I see." Ollie replies in a manner that suggests he doesn't see at all.

"Mine isn't working." Elliot gestures wildly in the direction of his desk, upon which there probably is a computer somewhere. "Some yoghurt got places and," he makes a typing motion in mid-air, "it stopped."

"You killed another keyboard, okay."

"So I thought I'd just very quickly borrow Jac's. It's amazing, they're all just the same you know," He tails off, guessing from Dr Valentine's expression that yes, he does indeed know. "Anyway, I was a bit distracted because Mr Harlow's notes fell off my lap and got a bit muddled. I clicked the emailly thingy and this all came up, just like it does with mine. I clicked on that email at the top and, well, what's inside it is a bit peculiar. I had to read it a second time, and that's when I realised, rather too late I fear, that this is Ms Naylor's email page."

"Not yours."

"No."

"What's in it?"

"Oliver, please." Elliot's expression becomes suddenly stern as if he's recalled the gravity of the situation; Curiouser and curiouser.

oooo

Jac's phone bleeps as she scrolls through her emails in the car park, increasingly reluctant to get out of the car and head into the building.

New Message from: 'Cunningham.'

Read Now?

"D-day. T x."

Her eyes flick upwards to absorb a panorama of morning routine, staff arrive, smokers huddle, the Chair of the Board meets her gaze square on from the entrance. She narrows her eyes and smiles mechanically, glad that he's too far away to read anything into her expression.

He catches up with her again at a jog as she sweeps through the entrance, and she gets the feeling he's been lying in wait as opposed to queueing for coffee.

"Morning Ms Naylor, how are you? Well, I hope? Everything is moving to plan, just as I always say; Every dog has its-"

"Agenda." She finishes for him, determined not to be belittled, and equally determined to spread the uneasy feeling she has in her guts onto others.

"Agenda." He repeats, smirking, and failing to catch her gaze as he stands too close to her in the crowded lift.

oooo

"It stinks of conspiracy." Ollie states to Tara, who isn't really listening, as he leans against the Nurses' station and watches Ms Naylor and Mr Cunningham emerge from the lift in step.

oooo

Jac frowns as she switches on her computer monitor. Elliot is watching her intently and his mouth goes dry as the expression on her face changes from one of confusion to something approaching suspicion and rage. She refreshes her inbox three times, but the messages she'd checked and filed on her phone from the car remain in situ; A neat blue block marked as unread.

"Elliot, has somebody been in here this morning?"

"No." He replies very quickly to her curt demand, and with a certainty that's wildly out of character. In other circumstances she would have noticed this, but her swirling guts are throwing her off. She sighs audibly, unaware that she's still the subject of her colleague's owlish gaze.

"Elliot, things around here are changing."

"Oh, things are always changing around Holby, Jac. I just try to keep floating. When I stop," he shrugs, "well, there's a few pet projects on the back burner, and I would like to visit Martha."

"Good. I mean, it's good that you think like that." She bites her bottom lip, and he mirrors the action. His tongue swells in protest, and he looks away before his questions about the Very Private Email trip out of his mouth unchecked. He busies himself and the next time he looks up she's vanished out onto the ward.

oooo

"Somebody's been reading my emails." Jac hisses into her phone, and checks up and down the empty stairwell for the umpteenth time. There's a pause on the other end of the line.

"Our emails?"

"I don't know, yes. Probably."

"Gosh." She huffs at the unhelpful exclamation.

"Now is not the time to be coy, the point is somebody has hacked my email account. This is getting a bit..." A door swings shut on the floor above and she comes to abrupt halt mid-sentence, which he mistakenly infers as speechlessness.

"Out of hand?"

"No!" Whispering, incredulous, "Out of order." Another pause, that he wisely leaves alone. When she speaks again it's with regained composure. "I got the link you sent me this morning."

oooo

"Excuse me, Nurse?"

"Er, Doctor, actually!" Tara smiles brightly as she's approached by the Chair of the Board. He raises an eyebrow, gaze flickering to the sign on the desk that says, 'Nurses Station'.

"Could you page Jac Naylor for me please, I'll be in her office." He turns on his heel and she sticks her tongue out at his back.

"Hey, at least he said please!" The dulcet Scottish tones take her by surprise and she dips her head, a bit embarrassed. She turns to face Jonny properly and lowers her voice.

"Actually, Ollie thinks there's something fishy going on."

"Mmm, too right. A disappearing Swede, whatever next?!" She chooses to ignore the fact that she's being mocked.

"Seriously, Mr Hope found some incredibly private email on Ms Naylor's computer this morning from a Bryne email address, as in Bryne Foundation? He was really sweating over it apparently, like he read something he shouldn't have. Ollie didn't get to see it but Hanssen was mentioned in the subject. He thinks Ms Naylor's in cahoots with the Board; Bribery or something. It's exciting, isn't it?!" She springs away from him as she notices Jac approach from behind.

"No, it's not exciting." He's oddly stern and Tara's smile falls. Jac, sensing a topic other than mundane gossip is at the centre of this exchange, looks up alert.

"What's not exciting?"

"Nothing to do with work." Jonny snaps accusingly then stalks off, leaving Jac dumbfounded and irritated.

"Um, Ms Naylor? Mr Cunningham's in your office."

oooo

A dark haired woman, with striking features, sits alone at a small table. She has a steaming mug in front of her and she's engrossed in a thick file of notes, pen poised. She doesn't see Joseph enter the Costa on Carlisle High Street, even when he makes a show of packing away his umbrella, trying to catch her eye. He dithers, then heads over to her table.

"Ms Shah? Joseph Bryne."

"Ah! Hello." She drops her pen in the coffee, caught out.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

oooo

Elliot fumbles awkwardly with a packet of Werther's Originals as Cunningham stalks, impending, before him.

"Do carry on, Mr Hope. I shan't intrude." Elliot frowns. After all, this political rubbish needn't involve him, Holby is lucky to have him at all. Jac's earlier comments spring to mind and he shifts awkwardly in his seat, perhaps it is all drawing to a close. As if on cue, Jac appears through the door with Beauchampesque poise, smiling softly as she sees Terry Cunningham and turning to recline confidently in her chair. Elliot makes his excuses. There's no etiquette in question, he'd just really rather be anywhere else.

oooo

"Sorry Joseph, I'll just pack these away. Damn!" She plucks a soggy pen from the mug and makes a face, shaking splatters of coffee all over the table. "Ink's leaked."

"I'll get you another." Joseph beats a hasty retreat with this remark to seek refuge by the counter, which is far away from the stray spots of brown liquid that his jacket would rather avoid. He's increasingly curious to find out how this scatty smily creature came to call Jac Naylor a friend.

oooo

"Jac." Cunningham speaks first, upper hand, higher ground.

"You paged me?"

"I did."

She's ice. In this moment specifically it's thrilling, and as yet he has no idea why. He chooses to take a seat opposite her desk, and ignore the fierce expression that this incurs. He has been warned by a few, more aged and definitively male, Board members that playing with Jac Naylor is akin to playing with knives. Somebody said that you never know what to expect, that she's a super sized sea mine primed and ready to explode at any given moment. Terry prefers to think of her as a naive puppy. He enjoys toying with her, and the way she treats everything with the utmost sincerity. With Hanssen out of the picture she will make the perfect CEO, a puppet whose strings he will enjoy tugging at. She'll be the youngest hospital CEO in the UK, a column inch filling protege of Holby General, and a scapegoat to proffer if necessary. Yes, she'll like that; Autonomy is an outdated ideal anyway.

"Ms Naylor, you look a little off colour today. I trust you're not nervous about the Board Meeting this afternoon? Soon, of course, you'll almost certainly be invited to them all."

"Nothing of the sort, I don't do off colour. Board Meetings aren't the fascinating spectacle you make them out to be, Terry."

oooo

The coffee meet, having tumbled on for longer than planned, draws to a close between Joseph and Sahira. He's unusually fancy free, having taken the morning off work to meet Ms Shah, but she panics when she spots a clock; It's not easy juggling a new project, her children, and her divorce lawyer.

"Actually Ms Shah,"

"Sahira, please!"

"Sorry, yes, Sahira. Actually, there is just one last thing. Why Jac?"

"Why not Jac?" She starts to stuff items into her briefcase, looking for a quick answer.

"There are CT Consultants all over the country who'd be interested in being an ambassador for this project. Most of them are a lot closer than Holby and I'm sure all of them are a lot more, well, flexible."

"Jac's good."

"And that's all?"

"What?"

"I mean, you know she's good. That's the only reason you'd ask a surgeon who's spent nearly a decade building her career and professional reputation in one part of the country to relocate to the other side of it?" Sahira stops stuffing paperwork away and meets Joseph's critical gaze. "I mean, that'll be why she's hesitating. She thinks you want someone to hold your hand. You know Jac."

"Maybe she's hesitating because of you." Sahira replies with a raised eyebrow. "Anyway, that's not your concern, I'm looking for support from GP's surgeries in the local area. Penrith is, well, really key to get this project off the ground."

"You have my support. After all, this project could be fairly key for me, too."

oooo

Cunningham places the formidable contract on Jac's desk; The reason for his visit. "I thought perhaps I could watch you sign it." Perhaps he's smarter than she gives him credit for. "I'm afraid I don't have any champagne." He's making it clear that, at Holby, it's this job or no job.

As if on cue, her phone trills into life and she breathes a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, I have to take this. Life or death, you know." She gestures towards the door. He leaves, at a pace more leisurely than necessary, abandoning the contract on her desk.

"Sahira."

"Jac! It's me."

"I know."

"Sorry to call you on the run," She's breathless, "I've just come from a meeting with Joseph Bryne."

"If this is just a chat," She checks her watch, she has a disdain for idle chit chat on the phone.

"No, no, I just need to see where you stand. You know, mulling my offer over and all that. Joseph said something."

"What?"

"Well, okay, do you think a CTU centre to serve the Northern Lakes is a good idea? Do you think it's a good project?"

"Yes. What did Joseph say?"

"Something about, well, your uncertainty. Why are you hesitating?"

"You're asking me why I need time to think about relocating my entire life, my career, to Cumbria?"

"Jac." She bristles at the knowing tone Sahira uses.

"Sahira. Why are you trying to get this off the ground now? Your marriage is in ruins, you've got a pile of kids to organise, you're a mess."

"Oh, I've missed your charming way with words."

"Well, don't! I'm not in the business of hand holding or sharing tears and Pinot Grigio. You know that?"

"I'm almost insulted that you think I don't."

"Well, it's irrelevant anyway. I'm in."

"You're, really?"

"It's good timing." For once, she thinks, as she hangs up the phone with an unceremonious tap of the touch screen.

"I hoped you'd go for it!" Elliot chimes in as she hangs up, and receives a glare for his trouble. She'd been reading some notes on her desk as she'd been talking to Sahira, and hadn't noticed her colleague's reappearance. "Not that I want to get rid of you... I just mean, what an opportunity, it's a marvellous project! And Penrith, with Joseph. I'm happy for you."

"How did you know about it? Nothing's public yet."

"Ah."


End file.
